The attack had been utterly unexpected by the besieged, and on the north side of the town provisions were being conveyed over the walls even while at the Argos gate the flag of Greece was flying. The hoarse roar of crowds came to the servants of Mehemet Salik as they were returning to the house with meat and bread. There was no mistaking that sound, and they dropped whatever they had and fled home for refuge, only to find the women of the harem and the other servants streaming out to seek escape. The long-delayed day had come, the stronghold and centre of the Turkish power was in the hands of those who had been slaves so long, and each link of the chains that had held them was broken by another and another Turk stabbed, shot, or trampled to death. The Mainat corps gained the square first and cut into the mob escaping from Mehemet's house, and a lane of blood and bodies marked their march. Mehemet and a few soldiers had barricaded themselves in an upper story and fired a few shots at the men at the rear of the column, who pressed forward unable to get in; but in ten seconds the foremost men had passed up the stairs, broken through the barricaded doors, and were on them. As was their wont, they fought in silence, and for the most part with knives only, and inside the room only the trampling of feet, short gasps, and a sharp cry or two were heard against that long hoarse roar outside. Yanni, who was among the first, forced his way to where Mehemet was standing, still pale and unconcerned, defending himself desperately, and as if introducing himself: "He who was to serve in your harem!" he cried, and stabbed him to the heart. Here and there in the streets a group of Turks collected, but the wave of men passed over them, leaving naught but wreckage behind, and others ran up to the citadel gates, where they beat on the door demanding admittance. But before the gates could be opened the Mainats, who had finished their work at Mehemet's, were on them, as they stood close pressed, men and women together, in a living wall. For an hour that piece of shambles-work lasted; they met resistance, for the Turks were not lacking in courage, and when it was over, and the living wall was only a tumbled pile of death, they went back, still silent and stern-featured, but leaving some thirty or forty of their clan behind them, whose death they were going to avenge.